


What goes down in South Downs

by TheLinThing



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel and Demon True Forms (Good Omens), Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual Sex, Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Drunkenness, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gay, Getting Together, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Panic Attacks, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLinThing/pseuds/TheLinThing
Summary: The maybe one millionth fanfic ever created where Aziraphale and Crowley move to the South Downs after Armageddon't. Here's my humble take on the subject. It's an ongoing project that is going to span several chapters.NSFW warning for chapter 8. Some angst throughout.English is not my native language, so forgive any grammatical errors. Also, this is my first proper fanfic of my adult life. I have written some when I was a teen but been out of practice since. But Good Omens has proven to be quite the muse and I found my fingers racing over the keyboard for the first time in ages again. For that, I am thankful.Any comments brighten up my year anytime!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58
Collections: The Good Omens Library





	1. Sugesting the ineffable

Crowley and Aziraphale walked back from the Ritz back to the bookshop. They agreed to a drink or two, or three, or a dozen, to wash away the meal and the adventure overall. They had begun this ordeal eleven years ago drunk, talking about dolphins and being godfathers to the wrong child, it would only seemed fitting they would end it the same.  
During dinner they had consumed a bottle of good champagne so both the literal and figurative spirits were already high once Aziraphale opened the door.

“I do not have more Chateauneuf-du-Pape’s I’m afraid.” Aziraphale said while he walked towards the back where he stored his liquor. “Let’s see… Scotch perhaps? Or… ooh! Found some gin as well!”

“Whatever you’re having I’m having too.” Crowley said absentmindedly. He sauntered towards the couch in the corner and sat down, sprawled out, waiting for his drink. 

“Here we are.” Aziraphale emerged with two glasses and a bottle of single malt scotch, set it on the coffee table and poured. 

“We’re going to need more than one bottle.” Crowley said while receiving his drink. “I feel like celebrating tonight. A lot of it. After all this shit both Heaven and Hell know I need it.” 

“Let’s keep it classy here dear, no repeating the 1933 incident.” 

Crowley smiled as he remembered how he singlehandedly caused the American prohibition by deciding it was only an act of a good demon to rid an entire nation of alcoholic temptation, say for him of course. The idea of having something all to himself while no one else was allowed to have caressed his evil tendencies like no other. Higher-up was particularly satisfied with him during that year. 

“I’ll doubt I drink an entire country dry a second time. Cheers.”  
He downed the contents of his glass in one go, grabbed the bottle and poured himself a second one right away. 

“So, now what do we do?” Aziraphale said while he got comfortable in his favorite chair. “No more babysitting antichrists, no more thwarting divine forces to prevent the end of the world. Hell nor heaven want anything to do with us anymore.” He sighed “So now…. Just… hang around till kingdom come?”

“Sell books until kingdom come. If people still want books for that long, that is. E-reading is the ‘’thing’’ now.” 

Aziraphale made a face. “No one appreciates the smell of old pages or the craftsmanship of leather-bound backs anymore. It’s a troubling age to be a bookseller.”

“Is selling books really all you ever wanted to do, Angel?” Crowley asked. “You could always switch hobbies. Keep it interesting for the years to come. Pick up… hell... diamond-painting or whatever. Or tailoring. Design some costumes for all the hipsters with love for period suits.” 

“This suits me.” Aziraphale said. “Books… the heart and soul of a culture. Tomes containing the minds and machinations of the author. It’s what I was meant to do.” 

Aziraphale nipped his scotch. Crowley loved to observe him doing small things. The way he enjoyed good food, the little content smile that graced him as he took in earthly delights like crêpes or little frou-frou cocktails. He could look at that for hours. 

“So what are you planning to do?” Aziraphale asked. “Drink alcohol and nap till kingdom come?”

“Nah. That would get boring very fast. I’m easily bored when I’m left on my own just like that.”

Aziraphale saw an opening to a topic that he wanted to discuss for quite some time.  
“That’s the point is it, being on our own? We have no offices to report back to anymore. We’re free to do whatever we want but the thing is, we never have been before. There was always a job that had to be done, somewhere.”

“I must say our Arrangement has given us quite the liberty over the years. No actual work, just the odd report.” Crowley said. “We have helped each other being lazy bastards for quite some years already.”

“But not entirely without judgement.” Aziraphale warned. “Our hidden agenda almost has us both discorporated. I have to say we have been very lucky that we managed to wriggle ourselves out of that mess.”

“I thought it was quite clever actually.” Crowley gave a sideways grin. “Me being you and you being me. It was an interesting state to be in to say the least.” 

“How so?” Aziraphale angled. He’d love to know what part exactly Crowley liked about impersonating him. 

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked, not quite understanding. 

“You said it was interesting being me. In what way? What was it exactly like for you?” 

“Well I have known you for six millennia, so I kind of know all your quirks and your manners. To act them out was fun.” It was hard for him to stay vague about how he had meticulously observed anything Aziraphale did over the centuries. How he reveled in the sight and sensation of him doing anything, really. 

“What matters is that I played my part so well that no one noticed a thing.” He concluded. 

“Hm.” Aziraphale just uttered, while he took another sip of his scotch. He loved to elaborate on his part of the swap, but was afraid it would touch topics that he didn’t feel quite ready for. He would lie if he didn’t say that stripping Crowley’s clothes down to his undies to get in the bath of holy water was the best part, so he remained quiet for now. 

“But we digress.” Crowley saved him from the silence. “The question remains indeed, what to do now.” He sighed. “I could start with a very long nap. Month or two, three maybe. But after that….?”

“I have had an… idea… for some time.” Aziraphale started, anxiously. He had begun to say what he wanted to. No turning back now.  
“Maybe it isn’t something that fills our respective agenda’s per se, but perhaps it can give another perspective on things. I mean….” He swallowed. How would he phrase the next sentence? “I think it is safe to say we always quite enjoyed each other’s company, have we?” 

Crowley’s insides made a jolt. Aziraphale wasn’t implying what he thought he was, was he? He became more nervous but on the outside he remained cool as ever. “I suppose so.” He said. “What of it?”

“I thought… maybe… Well, to be quite honest I personally get fed-up with London. It is nice but after a couple of hundred years one might appreciate a change of scenery. What about you?”  
Aziraphale spoke as if he was a bit out of breath. 

“I guess.” Crowley said vaguely. “But I’m still not sure what you’re on about.”

“The South Downs.” Aziraphale announced. All he got as a reply from Crowley was raised eyebrows. 

“I’ve been thinking about relocating.” He explained further. “I’ve spend some time by the coast this spring and found this lovely cottage for sale. I thought that once all this was over, I might move there. But since both our plans are quite non-existent otherwise… I would dare to ask you if you might…. Join me?”

The last two words were high-pitched and hardly audible. The moment they left Aziraphale’s mouth, he half-regretted uttering them. What must the demon think of this ridiculous idea? It was stupid. Despite all the thought he had given it and all the replies he imagined, it was now for the first time that the replies he expected fell into the negative. Of course he hoped that Crowley would agree, but it seemed so much more realistic now that he would decline. Leaving his sleek, modern Mayfair flat behind where he had happily lived for decades and trade it for a quaint, countryside cottage. It was like asking a fish to live in the dessert. 

Crowley stayed silent for a while and Aziraphale feared the worst. He kept a close eye on the frown on the demon’s brow, indicating he was thinking it over. It was like waiting for a tossed coin to finally drop and reveal a winning side, but it just kept on spinning frustratingly. 

“South Downs?” the demon finally pondered, stroking his chin. “Sloping hills, rugged seas, sharp cliffs…” He swayed his head a bit, as if he wanted to test the feeling of shaking no or nodding yes. The movement was characteristically snakelike. 

“I took a pamphlet with me. Hold on…” Aziraphale rummaged through some stacks on his desk until he found what he was looking for; a blue pamphlet with an image of the Seven Sisters on it as background, framing a photo of a picturesque cottage; Light tan brick and a grey roof. He handed it to Crowley.

As Crowley grabbed the pamphlet he noticed that Aziraphale’s hands were slightly shaking. He observed the page for a while, his face emotionless.  
“It would certainly suit you.” He finally said. “But what about your precious bookshop?”

“The bookshop stays, of course. I’ll just move out of the cramped apartment upstairs and keep the building as a business only.” Aziraphale said breathlessly. He still hasn’t got an answer from Crowley if he would join him. The longer it took, the sillier he started to feel. 

“I quite like the cliffs.” Crowley murmured. “But me, in a cottage? Ngk. Hm.”He twitched his nose. His sounds were not dismissive, rather pondering. 

“We can always compromise on the decoration and style.” Aziraphale said quickly. “The cottage itself has been newly renovated. Originally built in 1916 but it got an overhaul just last year. Larger, open windows and such. It also has a garage attached. The price therefore is a bit steep so no one responded so far. But price has never been an issue for me and the owner seemed very keen to get rid of it. I checked the village itself out too and I must say it’s quite nice. It’s only an a small two hours’ drive from London, though I can always teleport to work if needed. No problem at all…”

“Angel.” Crowley said sharply, interrupting Aziraphale’s continued, nervous stream of words. 

Crowley seriously considered it, though he found himself annoyingly conflicted inside. Live together with the angel? Yes! Absolutely! His soft side, the side that loved Aziraphale, celebrated. But living with Aziraphale. No. Out of the question. What is he thinking? Shouted his demonic doubt. The same doubt that was plaguing him for millennia now. The same doubt that made him crippled with anxiety every time they happened to touch. A brush of a hand, or even just a certain look. One that the angel seemed to have perfected over the years, and deployed even more often lately.  
He was also a bit hazed by the alcohol. Could he think straight enough to make the decision now?  
That was, in fact, a good start. Sober up first, and then decide. 

“Yes?” The angel implored nervously. 

Crowley lifted a finger. “I am going to decide… but not in this state. Hold on.”  
He grunted and twitched, expelling all traces of alcohol from his system. It was but a fraction of the amount he had to expel eleven years ago, the last time they drank together but it was enough to make his head just a bit clearer.  
He took a deep breath. “Ah, that’s better” 

“But what do you think?” Aziraphale said impatiently. 

“I think….” Crowley sighed once more. “I think I need to see the place in person first before I decide. I need a certain amount of space. I have to make sure that I get that.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s eager grin disappeared slightly. It wasn’t a yes or a no. At least, he had an answer for now. But it wasn’t enough. 

“But how do you feel about the idea of us… you know… living together?” he asked carefully. 

“In all honesty? Dreadful.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. He couldn’t mean that…. But then he saw Crowley smirk.

“… But I happen to like dread.” Crowley added. “As long as you stay enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, you might prove to be worthy company.”


	2. Jealousy

Aziraphale had made an appointment with the realtor that sold the house for a viewing. As the summer faded, the angel and the demon found themselves driving the black Bentley on a long, winding road through the hills south of London on a late afternoon, heading for the coast, the first fallen leaves of autumn flying around the wheels.  
Aziraphale studied the pamphlet thoroughly during the journey. Sometimes making a remark on how nice it was that the house was so close to the sea, being remote but still close enough to the nearby town of Friston to be in reach of the comforts of pubs and other amenities.  
After nearly two hours on the road they arrived at the cottage. Waiting for them on the steps was the realtor, and Crowley decided right away he didn’t like him. Sure, both he and Aziraphale had their flamboyant traits, Aziraphale being a downright pansy sometimes, but this chap had ‘queer’ written all over him. From his lilac shirt underneath a silver vest on top of white jeans that were too tight for even Crowley’s comfort, to his silly little moustache with a swirly curl at the tips. Even the way he stood, leaning heavily on one hip as if he wanted to emphasize his lack of straightness even further. The only straight thing on his whole appearance was the middle parting if his dark-blonde hair, as if he used a ruler each morning to create the sharpest line imaginable. His long fingers adorned with shimmering blush nail polish were clasped around a tablet with a soft turquoise cover.

“Sirs Fell and Crowley?”  
The man approached them once they parked and exited the Bentley on the graveled driveway in front of the garage, his hips swinging like a pendulum. He held out a meticulously manicured hand, that Aziraphale shook. The realtor’s lips curled up in a broad smile.  
“Billy Simms, realtor. Part time home designer.” He introduced himself with a silly giggle. After he let go of Aziraphale’s hand, he left his hand dangling in the air next to his face, not even making an attempt to greet Crowley. Not that Crowley minded though. 

“It’s so nice to finally have people look at the property. I have put so much effort in it! I did the staging all by myself. I’m happy to show you around what has become my own little love-project. Oh don’t worry.” He said, after noticing Crowley’s look of disgust, half hidden by his shades, so the realtor mistook his raised eyebrows as worry towards the style of the house instead of the intended scolding towards everything he and his lilac shirt radiated.  
“I have kept the original spirit of the house alive and well. Many original features have been preserved. I just… tweaked it up a little.”  
Again that stupid giggle. “Shall we?” 

Demon and angel followed the man towards to the door. Billy Simms fiddled with the key in the lock with a raised pinky.  
“Here we are.” He said as the door opened, leading to a small hallway. An arch to the left lead to the open dining/living area. The walls were timbered with spotless white shiplap from top to bottom. The open kitchen immediately to their right was graced with subway tile over shining white marble countertops. A peninsula island bar separated the kitchen from the rest of the room.  
They followed the room further down, passed the stairwell that split the kitchen and the room beside it, towards the tan bricked fireplace at the far end, nestled between the high windows. The furniture was basic, with scarce accessories and the main theme was white and frilly, with hints of pastel pink and lilac. Crowley let his gaze wander from the powdery pink table runner to the dreadfully over-ornamented small chandelier by the sitting area, and cringed. 

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Billy Simms praised his own handiwork, giggling again while eyeing Aziraphale. “The house is a real southern coastal charm, perfect for people seeking the peace and quiet of the countryside.”  
“Yes, lovely indeed.” Aziraphale praised shallowly. 

‘You can’t be serious.’ Crowley thought. He hoped the angel was merely being nice. 

“You may look at the house at your own leisure, if you prefer, but I can give you a full tour as well. I can tell you all about the history and the renovations I made, all the little secrets of every nook and cranny.”  
Billy Simms seemed far too delighted with himself; obviously hoping that his clients would chose the latter option. He still hasn’t looked at Crowley once. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Oh, that would be quite…”

“We rather look around on our own, thanks.” Crowley quickly said. 

The realtor’s face dropped, but he managed to pick up a slight, professional smile again. “Very well.” He said, clearly disappointed. “I’ll be out front if you need me.” He turned to walk away.  
Good. Leave. Scram. Crowley thought, but Billy turned again to have a last word. “Oh, the back door is a bit tricky to find, if you wish to view the garden. The door at the back of the kitchen leads to a mud room, and from there you can access the back….”

“Yes, yes, fine, we’ll find it.” Crowley said impatiently, placing a hand on the man’s back to nudge him, a bit more sternly than he intended, out the door. “There’s a good man.” He patted him on the shoulders, made sure the front door closed behind him and rejoined Aziraphale in the living room. 

“What a knob.” Crowley complained. 

“The boy is just doing his job.” Aziraphale said, a tad bit dismissingly. 

“Yeah and he sucks at it. Look at the state of this.” He picked up a corner of the pink table runner, only now noticing the frilly, laced edges. “Hngk.” He shivered and quickly let it go. 

“It’s only staging, we can decorate it to our own tastes.” Aziraphale said. His eyes wandered to the right hand side of the room, where a French door led to a second, large room, staged as a study. “Hm. Private library perhaps.” He smiled as he entered. 

Crowley sauntered over to the kitchen, gleaming too sparkly and pristine white for his liking. He glanced out of the window towards the back garden. It was fenced in with tall hedges, sloping down toward the left side of the house and with nothing but grass all the way through. He was delighted to see a greenhouse attached to the back of the garage. His plants would thrive nicely there, he thought to himself. 

“I’m going to check out upstairs.” Crowley said, luring Aziraphale out of his now-proclaimed library room to join him.

The first door upstairs led to the bathroom. Again, white shiplap galore accompanied by shiny golden faucets. Crowley did particularly like the large claw foot bathtub in the corner, say for the horrendous pink curtain veiling the window behind it. He left the bathroom with another disapproving ‘ngk’ and checked out the room on the opposite end, which appeared to be the master bedroom. 

Aziraphale walked into the room, ignored the white, wrought-iron framed bed and went straight for a door on the far side. “Ah, a walk-in closet!” he happily exclaimed. “I read in the pamphlet they had one. I take dibs on that, if you don’t mind.” 

“You do you.” Crowley vaguely said as he made his way back to the hallway and the second bedroom. It was a long room, with a door leading to the small balcony at the back of the house. Flowery wallpaper in powdery mint green made him flee out again after a few seconds. 

“If you take the downstairs study as library, I claim this room as my own private office.” Crowley announced. “But damn those flowers on the walls. We have some serious redecorating to do.” 

All that was left to check out was the basement. A door next to the kitchen obscured the stairs to the lowest level, which housed a large third bedroom and a room of unknown purpose opposite it. 

“This could become a lovely guest bedroom, don’t you think?” Aziraphale said, taking in the space. He didn’t hear Crowley answer.

“Crowley?”  
He went back to the small hallway and found Crowley leaning at the doorpost of the unknown room, a grin on his face.

“Angel, check this out.” He said. Aziraphale peeked in and saw a small, dark room with rows upon rows of shelves. 

“A wine cellar.” Crowley said approvingly. “I might like this place.” 

Aziraphale beamed.  
“Let’s go tell Mr. Simms then.” But he didn’t make any movement towards the stairs just yet. He continued to look at Crowley, disbelief creeping up on him. 

“So… you really like it enough to move in then? With me?” 

Crowley peeled his eyes away from the wine cellar and the image in his mind where it was filled to the brim with the finest scotch money could buy.  
“Yes.” He said rather nonchalantly. “Like I said, it needs a serious style overhaul, but I could get used to this. Would be nice, living by the sea again.”

“I think our last seaside address was in Sicily, around 305 AD.” Aziraphale remembered. “At least, I had a house by the coast. You slept on the beach, as I recall.” 

“Bare butt in the hot sand, wine for days, wiles to spare. Good times.” Crowley mused. 

He tapped the doorpost with his knuckles. “Let’s go find that poof bastard then.”

They made their way upstairs and out to the front yard, where Billy Simms was waiting, impatiently tapping his feet, but approaching them smiling right away once they stepped outside.  
“You find everything to your liking?” he eagerly enquired, though his voice still laced with disappointment towards their decline of a toured viewing. 

“We’ll take it.” Crowley said, wanting to get this over with. 

Billy Simms cheered and clapped his hands. “Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Marvelous! If you two gents accompany me back inside, we can even sign the deeds right away! I have them right here on my tablet.”  
He swaggered back inside towards the kitchen, where he put his tablet on the counter and pulled up the forms.

“So you will be signing as… housemates? Partners?” he asked.

“Erm…” Aziraphale felt his cheeks glow and gave Crowley a quick glance. 

“Housemates.” Crowley said hastily. He instantly regretted that, as the realtor now gave Aziraphale the most flirtatious stare. 

“Well, if one of you would be so kind to fill out the forms…” Billy said and reached out the tablet and a stylus. 

“Oh, Crowley, would you mind? I’m not that good with technology.” Aziraphale asked. Crowley grumbled and snatched the tablet from Billy’s hands.

“Name, address, date of birth, social security number… Fuck.” He mumbled so quietly to himself so only he could hear it. He performed a small demonic miracle, adjusting the date on the ID card in his wallet, like he would do once in a while when situations as these would arise. He penned down a date some forty years ago on the tablet under ‘date of birth’ to match.  
While Crowley struggled with the forms, he heard the realtor talking to Aziraphale on the background, but payed no attention to what was said. 

“So we’re swapping busy old London for the quiet countryside huh?” Billy giggled nervously. “City dwellers going rural. Or have you lived out in the country before?” 

“Yes, quite some years ago.” Aziraphale answered. “I’ve lived… all around… really.”

“Aah… all around? Like, outside of Britain?” Billy enquired further, taking just a step closer towards the angel.

“Yes, you could say that.” Aziraphale wondered how he could keep his moves all around the globe vague. “I’ve tried out several countries.”

“Ooh, a man of the world.” Billy admired. “But boring old England must be so dull then, compared to all that is out there.” He took another step closer, reaching a hand towards the lapels on Aziraphale’s jacket, stroking the edge. 

“Not so bad actually. England is quite…” Aziraphale sputtered, getting uncomfortable. 

“OI! HANDS OFF!” Crowley’s voice suddenly barked. He had looked up from the tablet and saw Billy fiddling with Aziraphale’s jacket. The boy quickly let go, startled as if the lapel itself gave him an electric shock. 

Crowley couldn’t help it. Something inside him snapped out like a coiled snake leaping towards a threat. A hot flash of jealousy shot through him and suddenly he had the immense urge to punch that stupid rainbow-vomiting over-flamboyant peacock of a poof right in the throat.  
Get away from my angel!! 

But he had to restrain. Suddenly he realized how he came across and felt the snake inside him creep back into its hole. He ignored the shocked expressions of the other two and involuntarily scrolled back the form where he ticked the box as ‘housemates’, where he resolutely changed it to ‘partners’. 

“There. Forms signed.” He practically threw the tablet back to Billy. “We done?” 

The realtor gave a stiff nod, the corners of his mouth bent downwards and lip slightly trembling. He looked like he could burst into tears the moment he would open his mouth. 

“Well, thank you for your time, and my compliments on the lovely design of the house. I’m sure we’ll be right at home here.” Aziraphale shook Billy’s hand, who remained silent. 

“Let’s go, angel.” Crowley said adamantly, fishing the keys of the Bentley out of his jacket pocket. 

“Angel….” A shaky voice whispered in disbelief behind them as they shut the door. 

“What in the bloody hell, Crowley?” Aziraphale scolded once he sat down in the car. 

“What in MY bloody hell?? What of you??” Crowley sputtered back, turning the key in the ignition. “”CoMpliMentS tO tHe LovElY DesIgN” for Satan’s sake angel, the interior is fucking awful and that stupid poof was all over you.”

“There was no need to shout. And fine, the interior was awful but there is no need to undermine the poor boys’ confidence. He seemed so proud of his work.” 

“Ngk.” Crowley grumbled as he pulled out of the driveway. 

“Oh, Crowley, would you mind taking a right turn here instead of back towards the town? I’d like to show you something.” Aziraphale shifted the subject, and so the mood. 

“Idiot was still all over you…” Crowley mumbled, but complied with Aziraphale’s request. 

They followed the road a bit and saw no other houses anymore. Theirs was the last house on the lane. Suddenly the road took a sharp right, following the edge of what looked like a cliff. 

“Can you park here for a moment?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley swerved the Bentley towards the verge and parked the car. They exited the vehicle and their hair caught immediately in a rather harsh sea breeze.  
Aziraphale moved towards the edge of the cliff, and Crowley followed. 

The English Channel stretched out before them. The clouds overhead had a golden-pink edge to them, indicating the sun was about to set. To their right, a narrow path wound its way down the cliff towards the beach. To the left, passed the silhouette of a nearby lighthouse, the faint outline of the mighty Seven Sisters was visible from the other end of the crescent bay. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aziraphale whispered. 

“It’s not exactly the Great Pyramids or the hanging gardens of Babylon.” Said Crowley. “But it’s a sight, yeah.” 

“You’re hard to please.” Aziraphale scoffed. “Harder to impress, too” 

“It’s very nice, angel.” Crowley said reassuringly. They exchanged a quick smile. “There are worse places to live. It certainly tops London.” 

Aziraphale smiled relieved. They basked in the fading sunlight for a moment, the sky turning from bright orange to stunning deep indigo. The wind picked up and the waves licked the cliffs below them, washing over the narrow beach.  
Eventually they returned to the car and drove off, agreeing they would end the living contracts of their old residents right away.


	3. Colorbalance

“Oh no, the idiot left the furniture behind!” Crowley complained loudly. 

Two months had passed after they visited the property for the first time. It was time to take up permanent residence at the cottage. A lorry had visited both their old apartments earlier in the morning, loading in all their belongings. Pockets stuffed with cash withheld the movers asking questions about oddities like Crowley’s gothic-like throne, his unusually vast array of houseplants and the huge works of avant-garde art. Due to the fickle nature of logistic scheduling, plus the 80kmh limit for lorries on the motorway, they would arrive at the cottage late in the afternoon. Aziraphale and Crowley had went ahead to prepare the house for their arrival. 

“There’s a note on the table.” Aziraphale noticed. He picked up the faded pink post-it. 

“To the couple moving into Seaspray Cottage. Since you seemed quite satisfied with my interior staging, I would like to welcome you into a fully furnished house. See it as my gift for the loveliest client you proved to be. Also, the staging company didn’t want the furniture back anyway, as they discontinued the line. Best regards, Billy Simms.”

“Couple?” Aziraphale questioned as he finished the note. “We specifically told him we were housemates.” 

“Note how he phrased ‘client’ as a singular.” Crowley ignored the question by raising his own comment, also ignoring the faint sting in his chest when Aziraphale adamantly denied the mere idea of the word ‘couple’.  
“The lovely clienT that is the angel who filled his head with sinful thoughts for days.” 

He sighed deeply and impatiently.  
“Now we have to deal with getting rid of all his frilly nonsense first. Where are we going to put all this stuff?” he threw his arms in the air as a helpless gesture.

“We could just tweak it up a little.” Aziraphale suggested, his gaze wandering throughout the living room. “Change the colors, add some textures…”

“A little? Oh well, yeah I guess..” Crowley gave up. “So we’re using magic after all? Could have saved us the hassle with the movers then. We could just miracle all our stuff here.”

“Moving numerous objects over a span of many miles requires a whole lot more divine energy than some minor tweaks on the spot.” Aziraphale defended. “It would create too much of a disturbance in the air. People would ask questions.”

“They don’t give a shit about the waste of your divine energy anymore anyway.” Crowley sputtered. With ‘they’ meaning the forces of heaven, who used to threaten with a lot of paperwork if any excess, frivolous miracles were discovered. 

“The movers are already deployed, not much we can do about that now.” Aziraphale concluded. 

“I’m getting on with this, if you don’t mind. I can’t stand being in this blessed white bird shit-colored fussy den any longer.”  
Crowley angrily removed his shades, threw them on the fluffy sofa and tried to focus. 

“Do keep in mind I live here too dear, before you turn it into a concrete grey box.” Aziraphale implored before Crowley made his move.

The demon gave a low, dismissive sound but then mumbled ‘Sure, sure. Fine.”  
His hand waved through the air and the living room began to transform. 

First, the shiplap fell off several walls and dissolved into nothingness. He left two falls timbered for Aziraphale’s sake, but turned them, along with all the walls, silver-grey. The fluffy, white couch turned sleek and was given a copper sheen. The curly woodwork on the chairs on either side of the fireplace snapped straight, and the tan brick on the mantle turned dark-grey. The frilly little chandelier disappeared and was replaced by a simple, Scandinavian type lampshade. The heavy, flowery curtains in front of the windows were removed and all the doors were painted grey as well.  
Now focusing on the dining area behind them, the woodwork on the table received the same treatment as the chairs and the horrid pink table runner turned to velvety black, free of frills. Moving on to the kitchen, the white cabinets became dark wood with a granite countertop, the curly handles straightened and turned from golden to chrome, the floor tiles large and charcoal.  
Crowley kept the coastal style of the doors, as well as the shaker kitchen cabinets intact per the angel’s request. Once he was done he looked at Aziraphale arms wide and shrugged shoulders; a gesture looking for approval. 

“Not bad. Little too much grey, still. And I quite liked the fireplace as it was. ” Aziraphale judged.

He thought for a while and then miracled the kitchen countertops back to white marble, but leaving the cabinets just a flush lighter than Crowley made them. The wood flooring in the living area turned from faded white to a warm tan, with broad panels, the fireplace following suit. The bare walls just got a hint of blush trough the grey, and the tall windows were graced with white, see-through veils. Lastly, the angel plopped some formless throw pillows on the sofa, decorated with black, white and golden textures. 

“I can live with that.” Crowley mumbled approvingly. “Now we just wait for the rest of our stuff to arrive and this place will actually become decent.” He threw himself down on the new sofa. 

After the movers had come and gone, and the demon went to work to clear the second room upstairs of anything mint-green transforming it to a miniature version of his old Mayfair flat, the house had transformed into a perfect marriage of antique and modern. Enough warm hints of colors, cozy features and books and bookshelves in every room to please Aziraphale, and enough monochrome, sleek designs and houseplants scattered throughout to satisfy Crowley. Come nightfall, the house bathed in a golden sheen of the setting sun through the tall windows, amplifying the living room’s tinges of taupe and silver. 

Aziraphale sat retreated in his private library, that heavily resembled the bookshop style-wise, cozied in a lounge-seat, hovering over one of his favorite books. Crowley had gone upstairs to arrange his most precious and largest plants in his office.  
Aziraphale heard Crowley giving them an earful in the distance, chastising them for not being stacked properly in the moving truck, causing leaves to bent and crook, like it was their fault. 

“….And if you even so much as DARE to fail to acclimatize, I’ll have you all turned to COMPOST!” the demon finished his rant. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but grin. Talking – or rather – screaming to plants was one of those typical Crowley quirks that made him more human than anything. It was so silly. So un-demon like. His deep passion for things to grow lush and pretty, though channeling it a bit unorthodox, had an endearing touch to it, the angel thought.  
A faint, logical side of him had warned him before the move that Crowley’s plant-bashing might become annoying over time. But the opposite appeared true. Aziraphale finally got to experience how Crowley behaved when he was at home. Fully at home, in a comfortable way. It gave a sense of domestic ease and comfort that neither of them has shared with anyone, ever. It felt good to share it for once. 

After a while he heard Crowley come thumping down the stairs. He saw through the opened doors of his library how he flopped himself on the living room sofa, clasping his jacket tightly around him. 

“Bloody cold out here.” The demon mumbled, and with a flick of his fingers sent the fireplace ablaze, flames flickering and wood popping like it has been lit for hours.  
With another flick, the TV over the mantelpiece turned on. Crowley sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning closer to the fire, eyes focused on a re-run of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

“You have a perfectly good and bigger flat screen TV upstairs.” Aziraphale said, slightly annoyed with his reading now being disturbed by the sounds of the TV. 

“The fireplace’s over here though.” Crowley replied. “You can tell its winter indeed.”

Aziraphale tended to forget sometimes how Crowley was more vulnerable to cold weather than he was. Ethereal warmth radiated throughout the angel all year and in all climates. Crowley’s corporeal being resembling closely that of a serpent, was built to withstand scorching heat, both that of the deserts outside Eden at the beginning, as the fires of hell itself. The flipside being that when the temperature even dropped a little below 8 degrees Celsius, the demon quickly complained about the cold and rather buried himself away in layers of blankets to hibernate through the winter. Aziraphale wondered how he could adjust his way of living accordingly, not to disturb him during his potential hibernation now that they shared the same four walls.  
He wasn’t even that sure on why Crowley even agreed to this whole thing of moving in together. It just…. happened. 

Realizing he couldn’t focus on his book now anyway, he decided to give the subject a prod instead. He put his book away and joined Crowley in the living room, making a detour towards the bar first to grab them both a drink.

“Some wine, dear?” 

Crowley made an approving sound and gestured vaguely with his hand to underline it, eyes still glued to the TV. 

Aziraphale poured them both a glass of port and brought them to the living area, where he sat down next to Crowley. He stared at the TV for a while, where a bunch of flamboyant men were applying vast layers of make up in front of a large mirror, animatedly debating gay rights among themselves. 

“Interesting how some male humans try to shift their genders like that.” Aziraphale commented. “I understand it’s more a profession for them than an actual desire to be of the opposite sex.” 

“Here’s to not having to hassle with make up for hours on end to achieve that.” Crowley lifted his glass. “Still entertaining to watch though. It’s an art, really, what they do.” 

“Yes, quite.” Aziraphale said absentmindedly. He swiveled the contents of his glass around, the only sounds in the room being that of the men on TV for a few minutes, randomly throwing sentences in the air like: “Giiiiirl no he didn’t!”, “The shade of it all!” and a singsong-y “Jesus is a biscuit, let him sop you up.” 

“Jesus is a what-now?” Aziraphale exclaimed at the man on TV who uttered the last phrase; a heavyset dark fellow who began to look like Aretha Franklin more and more with every layer of make-up applied. 

“A biscuit.” Crowley clarified rather unhelpfully. “It’s a thing he says. I’ve been following this for a while now. My money’s on the one with the bad lip-job. He does a stunning Cher impression.” 

“Who?” 

“Never mind.” Crowley gave up and was reminded that even 80’s popstars were too ‘new’ to be known to the angel, whose knowledge of pop culture was as behind on the times as his velvet waistcoat. 

The program skipped to commercial breaks. Aziraphale thought Crowley wouldn’t mind disturbing him now. 

“So Crowley, I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

“Thought you might. Why else would you opt to even pretend to be interested in a show about drag queens to get my attention?” Crowley said, the corners of his lips curling up just the slightest.  
“Am I that subtle?” Aziraphale reacted sarcastically.  
Crowley said nothing, just smiled. 

“I just wondered why… why exactly… you agreed to move here with me?” the angel carefully enquired. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you did. I asked you to, after all. I just never… never really expected you do actually follow through on it. It seems a bit… surreal.”  
He swallowed and sighed, feeling a bit uneasy. 

Crowley let the question linger in the air for a moment. He could almost taste the fragility of it. 

Why indeed, he thought. It had been such an impulse to agree to move in with his best friend but it felt so much like the right thing to do. It simply hasn’t been an option to say no. 

“Like you said, we enjoy each other’s company.” He finally stated matter-of-factly. 

He wondered if he should elaborate on the thought that has lingered in the back of his mind since they left the airbase in Tadfield. Where they not only just left the scene of what should have been the end of the world, but also the end of them. The end of everything they shared. All they ever had together was the world, and it was almost taken from them, if not for the acts of the most basic of humans; a child. 

The world had proved to be a fragile thing. It wasn’t as infinite and solid as they liked it to be. Crowley used to believe that it was very much unlike them. That they were infinite and more solid than the world could ever be. Immortal, invulnerable creatures on a mortal, vulnerable world.  
But even that proved to be an illusion. Demons could be drowned in holy water. Angels burned in hellfire. They saw it happen with their own eyes and even suffered through both to save each other.  
Since then, whatever they shared had become a different thing than before. It became a lot more precious, like a flower that bloomed in abundance before and was suddenly reduced to a single rarity. The stakes of its existence rose, the price on it immeasurable. It had to be tended with the utmost care, in order to not have it die out.  
Therefore, when Aziraphale proposed to move in together, Crowley saw it as an opportunity for them both, as a chance to take that precious, rare thing that they had and tend to it closely. Like his plants that now resided in the greenhouse that needed the extra sunlight and controlled climate to flourish and thrive, far better than they have ever could in a grey Mayfair flat. 

“The world has changed, angel.” Crowley broke through the silence. “Okay, the world has kept on spinning like it had always done, even after Armageddon didn’t happen, but don’t you feel a…. shift in its course since?”

“In a way, perhaps.” The angel replied. “A lot has happened last summer. I don’t think we ever worked so closely together. I hardly had to thwart anything you did.” 

“S’actly my point” said Crowley. “Plus, we’re both free of heaven and hell. Something we haven’t been, ever. I mean… look at everything we have done before in our lives. It was all because someone told us to do it. I had temptations to tempt and wiles to wile and you had blessings to bless, all because someone somewhere gave us a job to do. But we quit. We signed our resignations and now… what are we now? We’re two creatures who inhabited the earth since the beginning. We’re the only two humanoid shapes on this rock in space who have known each other for six thousand years. The only ones. It would feel… strange… not to….not to….”

His sentence trailed off.

“Not to be together.” Aziraphale helped. 

“In a way… yeah…” Crowley muttered.  
That statement hit just a bit too close to home. He felt it, like a sting just north of his heart. 

“So yeah… it only made sense. That we’d live together… I mean…” 

“I understand. I believe I feel the same way.”

“That’s why you asked me?” Crowley looked his friend in the eye.  
“I guess so.” Aziraphale shrugged. “It just felt like the right thing to do. Like us living together is a balance that was needed to justify our respective roles. Like you said, we’re both ethereal beings…” 

“Occult.” 

“You were an angel once, even though it was long ago, so to me you count as ethereal.”

“Does it really, though?”

“Otherworldly then.” Aziraphale countered impatiently. “We’re two otherworldly entities who were sent to this earth together. It only makes sense we live on it together. As the humans we portray to be.”

Crowley chuckled softly. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

“As two middle-aged male looking humans that we portray to be, living together, how long before the neighbors start thinking we’re a gay couple, you reckon?” 

“It’s not unheard of for two men to live together as housemates!” Aziraphale quickly replied, but red spots suddenly appeared in his neck.

“It’s not as usual as you think.” Crowley grinned, astutely noticing the angels’ change in shade. 

“Especially not here in the countryside.” He pushed on. “City-dwelling housemates, sure. But I don’t think it fits in the usual demographic for people who buy seaside cottages. Plus, for human stereotypes, you’re as gay as any of those blokes.” He nodded towards the TV, where’s RuPaul’s Drag Race had silently continued. 

The color in Aziraphale’s face now matched his neck, and nearly even the wine in his glass. 

“Ridiculous.” He muttered, aggravatingly sipping his port.  
.  
Crowley couldn’t help but grin like an idiot.


	4. Forbidden Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of you who know the origin of the South Downs canon, know that it came with a bit more detail. Something about what Azirapahle was doing there. For referance, here's the source if that delightful evil: https://journal.neilgaiman.com/2006/05/what-bears-do-on-lawn.html  
> Yes, this is the porn-watching chapter.  
> Maybe a tad bit NSFW, though I tried to keep it as classy as I could. Also a touch of minor angst.

As much as Crowley loved to have hibernated through winter, he figured it was poor housemate etiquette to do so. He did sleep every night, avoiding most of the cold and took the occasional midday nap, silently envying Aziraphale’s ability to radiate warmth. 

Christmas came and went in a haze of squabbling over the Christmas tree that Aziraphale was dead-set upon having, taking up most of the space in the corner next to the piano. Crowley didn’t see the use of the thing and scolded it even more than his own houseplants, down to the point where most of its needles had shivered off completely. Not that it mattered, as Aziraphale just miracled it back to a full and healthy state in a jiffy.  
The high point of annoyance was reached however when Crowley found all the plants in his office decorated with baubles on Christmas morning. 

“Did you even think for one second that I would like that?” Crowley hissed, throwing a bauble he plucked from his plants at Aziraphale, who was innocently enjoying a hot cocoa on the sofa. 

“It’s Christmas. How can you not like Christmas?” Aziraphale said pompously. 

“Stupid, over-marketed, glittery, waste of good for nothing, nauseating, gold-shined hell.” Crowley hissed, cursing the Christmas tree barren for the umpteenth time out of spite. Not that it mattered. It was back to its full green glory by a flick of Aziraphale’s finger. 

He turned away, planning to sleep all the way through the holidays. Aziraphale didn’t have any of it however, and woke him on that evening again for an extensive homemade Christmas dinner. Crowley suffered through it with enough wine to dry out their liqueur storage for months to come, if it were not restocked miraculously every time they threatened to run out. 

Crowley dared to poke his nose out of the cottage again when the snow melted in late February. He’d find a new hobby in pestering couples who took walks along the shoreline. He’d curse the waves so they would wash over unsuspecting hikers out of nowhere, soaking them to the bone. He reveled in the sound of their startled yelps and giggled mischievously as they ran back inland, slipping and sliding as they went.

Crowley was out doing exactly that on a chilly but sunny Tuesday, while Aziraphale was sitting on the sofa, aimlessly flicking through channels on TV. He waited for a package to arrive with a new book that he ordered off the internet. His other books couldn’t seem to satisfy him until he got his hands on the first edition of Selected Tales of Mystery by Edgar Allan Poe. It was one of those things that were missing from his collection for years and he finally found a seller that accepted his offer. 

He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to watch. He flicked through the channel 4 news, Deadliest Catch on Discovery Channel, lingered for a bit at a baking show on 24 Kitchen but got bored soon enough and went further down the digital list to Mtv’s Cribs.  
Channel 65, 67,68… nothing but foreign shows.  
Channel 69….

‘Oh dear….’ Aziraphale thought, while he felt his ears turn red. 

Why on earth did they receive this channel anyway? It’s not like they had paid for cable-TV or something. TV was just a thing that existed out of convenience for them, the channels and shows on it playing at random, stealing away snippets of signals from the ether. 

He wanted to flick further but found himself strangely glued to the screen. Maybe it was because what he saw has always been considered a taboo among the more sophisticated circles he liked to believe he was part of and was taken by a most human urge to defy that. Maybe it was just sheer curiosity. Or maybe it was like looking at a train wreck; disturbing enough to keep your eyes fixated on it, despite its horror. 

Of course he knew right away what kind of channel this was. He wasn’t exactly estranged from what humans considered ‘pleasurable entertainment’, but he always treated it with a careful distance. It had something to do with dignity, rather than embarrassment. It was always meant to be a private thing. Though there was a certain touch of purity and wholesomeness laced through the act that Aziraphale always had the utmost respect for.  
It was, in its core, an act of love first and foremost. He couldn’t say he actually resented the lustful part of it, but saw it rather as the part that Hell had claimed for themselves, it being one of the seven deadly sins after all. Almost as if the act had to be balanced out somehow.  
It was that lustful aspect of it that deterred Aziraphale at first. It was the aspect that TV mostly seemed to portray anyway.  
Only this particular program was different.

‘It’s even sort of romantic’ he thought, as the initial shock of discovering the channel faded. He expected another wave of shock as the camera zoomed out and revealed that both the actors were male, but the opposite happened. Somehow, he got even more intrigued.

He had always known how humans went about it in the classical way. Male and female. Giver and receiver. Two males, however, was a fairly new sight. Of course he knew it was in the range of possibilities, but to actually see it played out firsthand, was something else. 

An involuntarily memory of a sentence played out in the back of his mind.  
“How long before the neighbors start thinking we’re a gay couple, you reckon?” Crowley’s voice echoed through his brain. That memory was closely and very involuntarily followed by an image, where the faces of the two men on TV were replaced by that of Aziraphale and Crowley. Then even more involuntarily, Aziraphale noticed a warm sensation between his thighs. 

‘Stop it.’ He thought to himself, feeling his cheeks glow red now too. ‘Ridiculous. Snap out of it.’  
He quickly banished the thought away, but he couldn’t look away from the screen. 

“How even do they…..?” he managed to mumble out loud. 

He found himself peculiarly invested. How did they go about it, indeed? Were the rumors he heard actually true? He couldn’t help but think it looked quite painful. 

Without actually knowing why, maybe just out of curiosity from an academic point of view, he reached for the notepad and pen on the side table, tapping into an old habit of writing down the peculiarities of the human race, in order to understand them better. 

He didn’t notice the front door opening and closing behind him. 

“Are you SERIOUSLY watching PORN?” Crowley’s voice suddenly echoed through the lounge. 

Aziraphale startled, dropping his pen immediately. He felt like his whole head was aglow. 

Crowley stood behind him, still wearing his long, wool coat, cheeks red from the harsh wind outside, one hand holding up the shades that he moved over to his forehead, his face split in the most demonic grin; a mix between delight, disgust, surprise and mischief. 

“C…. Crowley? Hi. Ehm. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“And you’re taking NOTES?” The grin grew wider and more menacing, the shades flopping back down to eye-height. 

“Purely…. An.. an… academic…interest in…. the ways of.. of.. human… fellatio… uhm…”

“Academic? HA!” Crowley couldn’t stifle his laughter any further. He wheezed and barked, while Aziraphale’s skin tone grew a healthy shade of crimson. 

“I thought it was quite an… interesting…” Aziraphale mumbled, trailing off. He supposed he’d better stop talking, as whatever he said made Crowley laugh even harder. 

Completely at a loss of how he could explain himself or save his dignity, he gingerly reached for the remote and turned off the TV. He never felt so exposed in his life.

Crowley was now collapsed over the back of the sofa, pounding his fists into the leather, hiccupping with laughter. 

“Are you done?” Aziraphale said curtly, while Crowley wiped the tears from his eyes, big and yellow with glee and malicious pleasure. 

“Never thought I’d see the day!” The demon beamed. “Was that gay porn too? It was, wasn’t it? You dirty bastard!” 

He snapped his fingers and his long coat got miracled to the coat rack in the hallway. He plopped down on the couch, next to Aziraphale. 

“Seriously though, why were you watching that? And taking notes?” 

“I wasn’t taking notes, I was just doodling.” Aziraphale quickly miracled the few words he managed to write down into meaningless scribbles, in case Crowley would look for proof. “And I just happened upon the program as I flicked through channels. It wasn’t my intention…”

“Yeah right. Did I ever tell you you’re a bad liar? S’ just not in your system to lie, being an angel and all.” 

“I’m not lying.” Aziraphale wished his head would stop glowing. 

Crowley rose up his hands. “Look, mate, no shame. We all have our cravings. Why else do you think I ever picked up a love for alcohol? You were curious, were you?” 

How does he always seem to read me like a book? Aziraphale thought. 

“In a way, maybe.” Aziraphale caved just a little. 

He hardly dared to look at Crowley but still managed to sneak a quick glance to his left. To his surprise, Crowley seemed to have had his fill of laughing about the matter and looked genuinely interested.  
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, Aziraphale thought. 

“Have you ever…. done it?” he asked carefully.

“What’d you mean?”

“Partaking in…. erotic acts.” The glow in his face wouldn’t budge.

“I might have fooled around a bit here and there. Nothing serious though.” Crowley admitted. “Lust and all the vices surrounding it have been part of my profession for a long time, tempting people into lustful thoughts and acts. I had to know what I was tempting them into, to a certain extent.” 

Aziraphale didn’t know what kind of answer he would expect, but what he got was, in retrospect, to be expected from a demon indeed.  
Could he have asked for specifics? Was that even a decent thing to ask? 

“To a certain extent…” Aziraphale repeated.

“Yeah…” It was Crowley’s turn to become uneasy. “I’ve… tempted some ladies. Lads too, to be brutally honest. Courted them a bit. Have them give in to a bit of… hunger.”  
He seemed to chew on a cheek.  
“Did some fiddling around, practiced the art of tongue-wrestling, visited a brothel or two. Or three. Just for the heck of it.”

“Oh.” Was all Aziraphale could say.  
Did he really want to know all this?  
Yes.  
And no.  
And yet… 

“What about you?” Crowley returned the question.

“Me? Oh no. I’m an angel. We are sexless beings.” 

“You’re taking quite an interest in it, for a sexless being.” 

“Well…. Ehm…” Aziraphale was nervously twiddling his thumbs, feeling confronted.

“It is an act of love, after all. A celebration of the human attraction for one another. I believe that, as an agent of love and goodness, a healthy interest on the subject is not unwanted for.” 

“And do you really feel nothing more but a platonic interest?” Crowley’s eyebrow rose ever slightly.

He was seriously pushing it now.

“Angels don’t have a need for… for… lust.” Aziraphale started to turn purple. “It’s a cardinal sin.”

“So is gluttony. I don’t see that stopping you either.” 

“What’s your point, exactly?” 

“Dolphins. Tha’s my point. ” Crowley smirked. “No seriously. You have to admit; we’re both more human than we’d maybe like to be. I like sleeping and getting drunk, so there’s the sin of sloth covered for you. I love expensive art and vintage cars; you can call that greed if you like.”

“But you’re a demon, sin is what you do!”

“And YOU like sushi and cake; you’re a downright glutton.” Crowley went on relentlessly. “You love books and outdated fashion, and you take pride in it. You’re not meant to like it, you’re not built for that. Yet you do. You even admitted once envying humans for their free will. Envy. Another bullseye. Then why should lust be any different?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to deliver a well-thought out counter argument, but nothing came to mind. He sputtered for a few seconds, and then fell silent. 

“You feel shame now, don’t you?” Crowley said emphatically. “Guess what. That’s a human response if there ever was one.” 

“But I’m an angel.” Aziraphale pouted. “Doesn’t that mean anything anymore?” 

“It means you’re an immortal goody-two-shoes with wings, who loves light colors and sappy romance novels, with the ability to perform miracles. It’s nothing more than that, angel. Don’t pretend you’ve ever been holier-than-thou. Leave that kind of thinking to Gabriel and all those other twats up there.” 

He gave Aziraphale a lot to think about. The angel stared down at his lap, mulling over what Crowley just had said.  
He was right, of course. Aziraphale was not a perfect saint. Never have been. But why did this affect him so much, then? 

“So… you really never have…? Not even felt a slight temptation to…?” Crowley softly asked, breaking the awkward silence between them. 

Aziraphale felt like saying no. The word was on his lips, ready to be uttered. But he didn’t. He couldn’t even figure out why exactly, but it felt like a lie. 

“… Tempted... Maybe...” he managed to mumble. He still didn’t look Crowley in the eye, which was maybe a good thing, or else he would see the clear vein in the demon’s neck, that was putting his increased heartrate on shameless display. 

“Tempted.” Crowley echoed. He swallowed away a familiar sense of anxiety. 

“Who could even tempt you?”  
The question was out there before he could take it back. And he would have liked to take it back, right away. But the damage was done.  
The silence that answered it was even worse than any spoken reply the angel could have given. 

“What do you have going on down there anyway?” he blurted out the next question that happened to float about in his mind, maybe as a foolish attempt to cancel out the previous, to break the silence. He regretted it even more this time.  
Why. Oh why would he even ask such a thing???  
WHY?? 

Now all color suddenly drained from Aziraphale’s face. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He said coldly.

“I used to change mine every three days or so.” Crowley dug the pit of shame even further. Something inside his head was running around screaming, begging him to shut his stupid mouth. But it just couldn’t be helped at this point.  
“Female, male, something in between. Both. Neither. But to be honest I do prefer the default package. Feels more genuine somehow.” 

He was barreling towards a precipice of shame and anxiety and the warning voice in his head simply had quit. It gave up. It went to bed, hiding deep beneath covers of endless cringe. But not before flipping the bird to whatever Crowley was doing here, not planning to show up for anything, ever anymore. 

“I kept the standard male issue as well.” Aziraphale managed to admit, albeit more than a bit uneasy. “Saved a ton of awkward glances back when robes and tunics were a thing. And… bathhouses.”

“Awkward…” Crowley fell back into the habit of repeating a word he heard just for repeating’s sake. It also nicely summed up the current situation to a tee.

He somehow managed to get a grip of his senses.  
“Shall we…. Just agree that this was a stupid topic and never speak of it again while I retreat to bed and hide there for a week?” 

The confession broke the tension in the room, pulling them back to a level of unbiased openness between nothing more than two friends. 

“That might be best.” Aziraphale said stiffly. 

“Right…”

Crowley waited a second. For what he didn’t know either. Then he abruptly got to his feet and made his way upstairs. 

Aziraphale’s own anxiety had nothing to do with Crowley’s, but it had everything to do with the absolute cesspool that had silently opened up inside of him, spilling out 6000 years’ worth of repressed emotion.  
He almost admitted it. Almost uttered the ineffable. They gently brushed the surface of a subject both of them had tried their hardest to avoid for all their existence, without even fully or consciously knowing why. 

That Crowley was indeed, the one that had tempted. 

The ring of the doorbell saved him from thinking about it any further. It was the mailman. His package had arrived, containing Edger Allan Poe. He had looked forward to receiving it for days.  
He found it disturbingly hard to recall his excitement over the new book.


	5. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two are getting close to revealing a big secret about each other. This is mainly a build-up chapter for the next, so bear with me.  
> Disclaimer for some minor angst.

Spring came around and Crowley directed his attention to the garden. Upon Aziraphale’s request, he had plotted out a corner of the yard for growing herbs and vegetables. It was a nice to direct his botanical skills towards something else than houseplants for a change. So there he found himself on a sunny day in April, digging in the soil, restraining himself to not put too much fear into the poor buggers. He thought it would spoil the flavor if he did. He instead uttered minor threats under his breath, just to give them enough pressure to stay motivated.

Aziraphale sat on the living room sofa, sorting through mail. He had subscribed to a magazine about antique books and hoped to receive it today. It often contained a list of must-have collector’s items which he loved to scour for titles he didn’t yet possessed. But today the mailman only brought boring old envelopes with contents that most people would toss straight in the bin. One from an energy company who tried to real in new clients with discounts, one from the national lottery, a magazine from the Jehovah’s Witness and one from the local home-owners association. He just opened the latter and absentmindedly screened the letter for anything important. It was an invite for a query on how they found their first months of homeownership.  
Aziraphale wanted to discard the letter on the pile of paper waste but an oddity on the top of the page caught his attention. 

‘To mr. A.J. Crowley and partner mr. A.Z. Fell.’ The letter stated. 

It was the third time he caught the term ‘partner’ on official documents concerning their house since they moved in. At first, Aziraphale thought nothing of it. Just an error in the administration perhaps, but now that it happened again, he felt like he needed to check.  
He moved towards the computer in the corner of the living room, the letter from the homeowners association in hand. There was a website address and login credentials at the bottom, where he navigated to on the computer.  
Once logged in, he went to the tab ‘personal information’, where he found a copy of the deeds that Billy Simms had them sign back when they viewed the house.  
He found the part where the relationship of the two residents was stated, and his suspicion was confirmed.  
The box was checked as ‘partners’ instead of ‘housemates’. 

Crowley entered the living room, miracling away the dirt beneath his fingernails from working in the garden. 

“Say, Crowley, can you take a look at this for a second?” Aziraphale asked him. “I had another letter from the homeowners association and there seems to be a mistake in their administration.” 

“What’s up?” Crowley moved towards the computer. Aziraphale pointed at the line that said ‘resident’s relation’ 

“I definitely recall the realtor putting us down as housemates. He specifically asked.”

Crowley felt his cheeks glowing red once he spotted the non-mistake. 

“So what, is it a big deal?” he sputtered.

“Not really. It just stood out as odd, that’s all. Are you sure you filled out the form correctly?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Totally did.” Crowley wished they could drop the subject. 

“Why are you so nervous all of the sudden?” Aziraphale asked worryingly. “It’s not like I’m making this an issue, do I?”

“Yeah. No. I mean. It’s fine. After all, how we are registered is just a stupid formality.” 

‘Please drop the subject’ Crowley pleaded in his mind. “So, what did you have in mind for dinner today?” 

“Ratatouille. You asked me the same this morning already. Plan hasn’t changed.” Aziraphale seemed adamant to remain on-topic. “You are making an issue out of this though. You’re acting all nervous and that’s never without reason.” 

He looked at Crowley like he gazed right through him. 

“It’s no accident that we’re registered as partners, is it?”

Crowley buckled. Lying to Aziraphale while he was onto him never came easy. 

“How d’you know?” he mumbled guiltily. 

“I saw you scrolling back and changing some information on the form back then. Just didn’t know what you changed, until three separate letters came in bearing the same ‘mistake’.”

Crowley stood with his fingers hooked in his pockets, his shoulders fixed in a permanent shrug, sputtering some barely audible noises as defense. 

“Why did you do it?” Aziraphale pushed on. It wasn’t a reproach, just a curious enquiry. 

Crowley made some more mumbling sounds. “B’cause of the way that stupid peacock was looking at you once he realized you were single.” He confessed. 

“You were jealous.” Again, no reproach, just a conclusion. “Why?”

“Never mind. Leave it.” Crowley desperately looked for a way out of this conversation. “I’m uh… I need to check on the basil plants. I think I haven’t watered those yet.” He turned tail and went back to the backyard, where he planned to hide in snake-form between the plants in the greenhouse for a while.

Once turned and coiled up at the base of a large monstera, Crowley the snake started to ponder.  
He was so sick and tired of these awkward episodes. So sick and tired of tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. They lived together, shared a house for heaven’s sake and they still participated in this uncomfortable dance of denial. Something had to give. Something had to change.  
It was maybe the millionth time the thought crossed his mind. The more often it happened, the more it eroded the wall he built around the truth over the course of a few thousand years. Crowley felt that wall crumble under the weight of the idea that repeated in his head over and over.  
‘I should tell him.’ 

He had to come clean. Tell him exactly why he had changed the status on the form to partners. Tell him why he got so nervous whenever Aziraphale was on to something.  
He was almost certain that Aziraphale felt the same anyway.  
Or was he?  
What if he didn’t feel the same way?  
This thought was also part of the script that he knew so well. It played its bullying scene in his head for a million times already.  
First came the denial; He didn’t feel this way about him. What was he thinking?  
Then the confession came. He did feel this way. Then came the part where he negotiated with himself, on how he would approach that feeling. Then the plan. He would tell him. Somehow. Someday.  
Then the doubt. He couldn’t. He possibly couldn’t. The angel would hate him. He would destroy their friendship. 

But the ever nagging doubt, second guessing, trying to read the other person’s subtle signs… it destroyed him all the same.  
Thousands of years of eroding thoughts finally broke through, nudged by the tiniest confrontation they just had. It was the final push it needed.  
Enough was enough.

“I’m going to tell him.” Crowley thought out loud. He was seriously planning to this time.


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite some angst, Crowley has a panic attack, but eventually its redeemed by bucketloads of fluff.

Aziraphale decided not to press the matter any further. It was a familiar scene after all. Every time Crowley got confronted with similar obstacles, he ran. It was nothing new. He knew how to handle him by now, so he let Crowley be for a couple of hours. He only sought him out to fetch him for dinner. 

Crowley managed to keep his cool during the meal. He had a plan. After dinner he would offer the angel a drink, and so the plot to pump them both full of alcohol would begin. It would at least take the tension off the moment. Give him an excuse for his behavior of it all went pear-shaped. 

And so it happened. About an hour into wine and after-dinner talks about the effects of the coming weather on their new vegetable garden, Crowley felt the need to release the question that has been bugging him for the last millennia. He did a quick mental check of his corporation for enough alcoholic sedation to pull it off. To his content, he noticed he was indeed feeling a tad bit reckless.

“So, we’re a few months into our little get-together.” He started, his long fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his glass. “Did you ever think we’d end up this way?”

“In a way, maybe.” Aziraphale sat comfortably tucked away in a corner of the sofa. “Share the earth first. Share a house eventually. One could even call it an evolutionary happening.” 

“What do you think the next step in that evolution could be?” Crowley’s insides tightened slightly.   
He needed more alcohol. He grabbed the bottle from the table and poured himself his fifth glass of the evening. 

“Well, it only took us six thousand years to get this far. A bit early to start thinking about next steps, don’t you think?”

A memory flashed through Crowley’s mind; one from some fifty years ago. He had just received a tartan patterned thermos full of holy water, and there was a nervous angel sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his parked Bentley. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” 

“Even when the changes in our way of life have been noticeably sped up?” Crowley gently pushed.   
“We went from sternly denying that we were friends for all our lives to moving in together within a year. I sometimes wonder why and how.” 

“The events surrounding the Armageddon-That-Wasn’t surely made an impact on how we move through life, hasn’t t?” Aziraphale concluded. 

“Do you believe we can only blame it on that?” Crowley gave a slight smile. “And not maybe the passing of time itself, moving us to whatever was next for us?” 

“You’re being awfully cryptic tonight.” Aziraphale noticed.

Crowley shrugged. “Call it that, if you will. ‘Just feel like philosophizing” 

Aziraphale stared into the contents of his glass, letting the white wine within swirl a bit. “You seem to imply we’re heading towards somewhere with this. That there’s a destination to our decision to move in together.” 

“Maybe I am, yeah” Crowley swallowed away the upcoming nerves. “Don’t you feel that way?”   
Aziraphale shrugged. “Don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about that. I mostly just go through the motions.”

“Was that also what you felt when you asked me to move in with you? Just a decision that you made, going through the motions?” Crowley’s nerves kicked back in gear.

“You’re still unsure of my motives.” Aziraphale smiled. “I assure you dear boy, I simply enjoy having you around.” 

Crowley noticed he tried to not give the statement any weight, but the angel failed miserably in that endeavor, as his cheeks suddenly glowed. 

“You enjoy having me around.” Crowley repeated, to let the statement settle. “You went from screaming at me that we weren’t friends for the entire world to hear to admitting that you like to be around me in a year’s time. Which is awfully short for us, considering our lifespan.” 

“What are you asking, exactly?” Aziraphale said a tad bit too curt. He gave the demon a quick smile to ease the moment. 

“Why have you denied that you …. liked me… all this time?” Crowley took another big swig of wine.   
Liked. Just liked. Keep it safe now. 

Aziraphale blushed. “I was afraid of what heaven would say, I think.” He swallowed. “But it’s not like I was the only one. You held back, same as me.”

“I didn’t.” Crowley said. “Dig again in that curly dome of yours and give me one example in your memory where I ever denied we were friends.” 

Aziraphale went silent for a while and tried to recall what he believed was true. Crowley was a demon. The idea of friendship must have been reprehensible for him.   
It must have.

“I’m right, and you know it.” Crowley reminded him. “I never denied us being friends, even when I knew hell was watching. Then why did you?” 

The accusation hit home. Aziraphale felt something burning behind his eyes. This wasn’t a lighthearted conversation anymore. This was a questioning for the motives behind his deepest secret. 

Crowley had settled for a way to accomplish his goal for tonight. He would let Aziraphale confess it first. That way he didn’t have to say the blessed words himself. This was the way to do it; by letting Aziraphale come to the conclusion himself. The conclusion of everything that was going on between them for hundreds of years. 

“Why are you asking this?” Aziraphale avoided answering. 

“I need to know something.” Crowley gave a deep sigh.

This was it. Crunch time. The cards were on the table, the game was in motion. Crowley pressed his lips together as a nervous twitch, and reached again for the bottle on the table, emptying it in his glass. He then drank it all in one go. 

“What do you want to know?” Aziraphale got worried. Something was clearly bugging Crowley so much, he rarely saw him so nervous. 

Crowley took a couple of deep breaths, waiting and hoping for the wine to dull his senses enough to say what he wanted.

“How long are we going to yell at each other that we’re enemies?” he started. “How long are we still going to believe that? Hm?”

“I think we’ve already established we’re not enemies anymore.” Aziraphale retorted. “If you’re asking if I see you as a friend, I do. You should know by now.” 

“But that hasn’t been the elephant in the room, was it?” Crowley pushed on. He started to talk faster with each sentence. “We’ve been friends since the beginning of time. We only said we weren’t to keep up appearances. I’m addressing the actual elephant this time. We both know what that is.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aziraphale got very nervous now. The hands that were cupping his glass were twitching. 

“You do. You’ve always known. I’m sick and tired of us both denying it.” The alcohol made Crowley agitated. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to feel how nervous he was, or notice how uncomfortable the angel felt now. 

“So?” he urged. “That elephant isn’t going anywhere until you admit it.”

“Admit WHAT?” Aziraphale almost broke his glass, he squeezed it so hard.

Crowley was at loss for words. He made some frustrated noises, gesturing his hands in a hopeless fashion, looking for any other way to phrase it than what was obvious. He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, even though they begged them to. 

“You’re being so vague about it; I don’t even know what you want me to admit!” Aziraphale seemed   
close to tears. He wanted to relief Crowley of whatever was bothering him so much that even six glasses of wine couldn’t soothe. 

“You DO know!” Crowley almost yelled. “You DO know, you just won’t admit it for yourself. Come on angel, what have we been avoiding to say all these years? It’s obvious, isn’t it? I say it again, you’re so clever and again you are being so stupid!” 

“Crowley, what are you on about?”

He could burst. The tension was unbearable. The words were on his lips, like ammunition on a catapult, the rope behind it stretched to maximum capacity, being pulled for the span of thousands of years, begging for release. 

“You tell me.” Crowley resorted. “You tell me. I can’t. I can’t…..” 

“You’re scaring me.” Aziraphale let a tear escape. His friend was in so much distress, it almost hurt him physically to see. He let one hand go of his glass and moved it over to Crowley, wanting to hold his hand, to comfort him. The demon gasped and pulled away his hand the moment they touched.

“THAT!” he yelled. “That...! you always do that. You’re being so kind. So… so… aaaaghh!” He jolted up from the couch, pacing back and forth, fisting his hands in his hair. 

“Say it angel. Just say it. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you always look out for me. Why you wore my skin to hell and back to save me. Why you asked me to live with you.. Why you always look at me that way…. You know the answer. I know you know.” 

Aziraphale would give the world to save Crowley from whatever was tearing him apart. He searched within himself to what Crowley was on about. The answer came bubbling to the surface faster than he was comfortable with. An automatic response as a result of a lifetime of repression made him deny and tuck away that answer almost right away. 

And then it hit him.

Crowley was reaching out a hopeless hand to bring that answer to the surface. Scoop it up from the deepest insides of Aziraphale’s being, away from that cage where he so carefully locked it for so long.   
It was Aziraphale’s turn to face what he never dare to face. Let the answer finally see daylight. He had to now, he was afraid the frantic demon in front of him would discorporate from sheer anxiety if he didn’t. 

Crowley couldn’t wait for the angel to finish his thought any longer. The rope pulling the catapult snapped, it gave in and hurled the words out of him, whether he wanted to or not.

“I love you.” 

The chaos of mental noise and cacophony gave way for deafening silence. Even their heartbeats, though thumping like mad in their chests, seemed silent. 

Crowley saw tears falling down the angels’ cheek and his worse fears came alive.

He should never have said it. It was stupid. So, so stupid. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He mumbled, at a loss. His habit to flee got the better of him. “I should never… I’m.. I’m going back to London. I ruined everything. I’ll leave you alone. I should have never... You hate me now. Forget what I said…” 

He couldn’t look at Aziraphale. He turned his back to the angel who was sitting on the edge of the sofa, with tears leaking down his face. He made his way to the front door.

“I love you too.” A broken voice split through the silence like an arrow. 

Crowley spun around, facing the angel again. Aziraphale had stood up and looked his friend in the eye, through a haze of salt. 

“Don’t… don’t….” Crowley sputtered as Aziraphale closed the distance between them. 

“You were right.” The angel said, repressing a sob. “We’ve been holding this truth back for far too long. I didn’t want to face it. I never dared. I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way. That you just saw us as friends. Oh Crowley, I’m so sorry I never said anything sooner…”

Aziraphale’s words echoed everything Crowley felt himself. He regretted everything; every moment he should have let the angel know how he truly felt. To hear that Aziraphale was nothing but a mirror to his own struggle for all those years, cracked open the brittle shell around his heart like a hammer.

“I should be the one to be sorry….” Crowley managed to say before his whole body gave in to the crushing emotions that whirled within him like hellfire. He was trembling from head to toe, gasping for breath. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” Aziraphale took another step closer, locking his arms around his best friend. “Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. You didn’t ruin anything.” 

Crowley could hardly bear the softness in the angel’s voice. He let him gently lead them back to the sofa, where they sat down without letting go of each other. Aziraphale let Crowley’s head rest against his chest, as he silently stroked his flaming red hair. 

“It’s alright.” He said again. “You were the brave one here, saying it first. I’m so proud of you.”

It took a few minutes for Crowley to catch his breath. Aziraphale held him tight, shushing softly into his hair. 

He was a creature of fear and darkness, first and foremost. Anxiety was his second nature, but he had learned to live with it. He had hidden it away, especially for Aziraphale, maybe as a stupid, proud urge to seem strong and unbeatable for him. To let it go like this was a strange sort of liberating. It was testimony that his trust in Aziraphale was stronger than any fear he harbored. 

He sniffed one last time and moved to sit upright. 

“That was….” He couldn’t find a word for it.

“Less awkward then all the times we tiptoed around each other.” Aziraphale helped him. 

“You really think so?” Crowley chuckled. “Speak for yourself; you’re not the one going into a full-blown panic attack.”

“I forgive you.” Aziraphale said. “You’re only a demon. Fear is what you lot do.” 

“Yes. Fear.” Crowley averted his gaze and looked at the floor. “Fear, hate, darkness….” He sniffed   
again. “But not…. Not… whatever I just…”

“Love.” Aziraphale filled in the blank. “Love is what our lot does, rather. But as you once said, we don’t have a ‘lot’ anymore. We’re on our own side. We’re our own lot.”

Crowley nodded, then he startled as he felt an angelic hand cupping his face, gently forcing him to look Aziraphale in the eye. 

“We have spent far too much time on this earth. We, as our own lot, are a mixture of all our qualities. Fear, love, light, darkness, good and evil. All of it is ours, just as it is for any other inhabitant of this earthly plane.” 

“You’re saying we’re like humans?” Crowley said shakily. 

“No. We’re like us. Nothing more, nothing less.” Aziraphale smiled. “Just you and me, we’re the same. And that is what makes this right.”

“Such wisdom about love from an angel who denied his own so adamantly just minutes ago.” Crowley gave a wet chuckle. 

“Yes, I admit I denied. And I’m so deeply sorry. I’ve must have put you through hell by letting your question linger in the air for so long.”

“I forgive you.” Crowley put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s that was still touching his cheek. “You haven’t put me through hell. Through heaven, maybe. That is way worse.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. “A demon that forgives, well I’ll be damned.”

“No. Blessed.” Crowley laughed in return. They let the laugh hover in the air between them for a moment, and then they leaned into it, touching lips for the very first time.


	7. Another life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The build-up chapter just before the finale!

Aziraphale didn’t even have a clue on how to do it. He just let it happen. He let Crowley take the lead, as he was clearly more experienced with it. It started with a gently brush of the lips, then the demon slowly let his tongue join in, carefully parting the angel’s lips as he went. 

The feeling was unlike anything Aziraphale ever felt before. He thought he knew what love was, that he knew what pure love felt like. He now realized he didn’t have a clue, as his insides seemed to turn to mush and feeling more like flying than any time he actually used his wings. He was so lost into the soft feeling of the demon’s lips and the gentleness of his long fingers on his cheeks, that it took a good three minutes to realize how much he was trembling. Once he noticed, he slowly backed away from the kiss. Crowley looked at him with big, yellow concerned eyes. 

“I went too far.” The crack in Crowley’s voice almost tore Aziraphale’s heart in two.

“No…no… you didn’t.” he let out a shivering sigh. “It was long overdue, even.” He forced himself to a smile. “I just.. I just need a moment. It’s a lot to process.” 

“I understand.” 

The moment that started out so beautiful had again turned to slightly awkward. Crowley was feeling a bit bummed out. He had hoped so deeply that all those uncomfortable moments would disappear the moment he confessed his feelings. 

“So….” Aziraphale tried to ease the tension, but had no idea with what.

“So. Yeah. This is a thing….” Crowley helped out.

“How long have you known?” Aziraphale blurted out. “That you love me?”

Crowley felt hot. How much bare truth could they cope with in one evening? What was the correct answer to that question anyway? Since Eden? Since Rome? Since last year? 

“You first.” He bounced the question back. “I took the initiative earlier, now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t know really.” Aziraphale said truthfully. “Somehow I feel like I always known. I was just blind to it.” 

He faintly recalled several times that he felt the same, floaty feeling that took hold of him now. “There were some times I think I realized that I did. Or realized you loved me, rather, if that makes sense.” 

“Makes perfect sense.” Crowley smiled. Again it was like looking into a mirror. 

“One of the times being when you saved me from the Nazi’s back in ‘41.” Aziraphale confessed. “You even went out of your way to save my books. I remember thinking why a demon of all beings would be so kind to me.”

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me for all those centuries. It was only fitting I’d return the favor.”  
“But being kind is in my nature.” Aziraphale said. “When did you notice I was not being kind to you just for kindness’ sake?”

Crowley laughed. “That’s the funny thing actually. It was when I noticed you were comfortable acting like a bastard with me. It’s so unlike you. When you refused to bring me holy water when I asked. When you did it anyway 150 years later. Stuff like that.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make sense and somehow it strangely does….” Aziraphale gave a calculated look. “Me acting like a bastard and you acting kind. You were right all along.”

“About what?” Crowley said quizzically. 

“At the beginning, when we first met, back in Eden.” Aziraphale smiled at the memory. “When you said that it would be funny if you did the right thing and I did the bad. I think that was exactly the reason why we ended up….falling in love with each other.”

Saying it out loud made him feel giddy. It was a thing now. It really was. He could hardly believe it.  
“That, and a million other things.” Crowley added. “I do believe we have a lifetime left to figure out exactly why we feel the way we feel.”

“Hear hear.” Aziraphale took another deep breath, letting the moment settle, and then looked at the empty wine bottle on the table.

“More wine? Or something stronger?” he stood up and headed for the bar. 

“Oh yes. Something stronger. Definitely!” Crowley was glad that they went back to a field of activity where he was more adept at. 

Aziraphale came back with clean glasses and a bottle of scotch. 

“Here’s to us.” He said, after he poured them both a good portion and raised his glass.

“To us.” Crowley’s glass kissed Aziraphale’s, and the demon kissed his angel once more. 

*********  
In earlier times, Crowley could have described the days and weeks that followed as awkward. There were a lot of moments where he was at a loss of what to do and what to say. But it made sense this time. I didn’t matter. Uncomfortable was no longer in their book when they were together. 

They talked a lot and the topics were about literally everything. All the things about their shared history that they never dared to talk about before were laid on the table. Every thought they ever had about each other was discussed and dissected in great detail.  
The whole process felt liberating, for both of them. 

Crowley refrained himself from pushing any further when it came to intimacy. Kissing was a thing they did regularly now. A slight peck on the cheek as they passed by each other, a deep snog after one of their extensive talks. Shy, experimental tongue-wrestles while they lay sunbathing in the garden as spring turned swiftly into a summer that promised to be long and warm. 

Hands never traveled further down than their waists whenever they shared an intimate moment. Crowley wanted to, but was unsure if Aziraphale was even up for it. He recalled how he had responded when he caught him watching porn. The angel was clearly unexperienced and Crowley didn’t want to rush him into things that they would regret later on. He thought that if it would come, Aziraphale should take the initiative, not him. And if it didn’t come at all… well…  
Crowley thought all this as he lay in his angel’s arms, kissing passionately, rolling around in the grass at their backyard while the sun warmed his back, strong angelic arms wrapped around him and soft lips caressing his.  
He absolutely didn’t mind keeping it the way it was. 

It happened during a lazy evening in July. Wine was consumed and the movie they just watched rolled its credits on the background. Titanic. Aziraphale had watched the infamous car-backseat scene with a curious look in his eyes and wondered out loud what it must have felt like for the two characters. They diverted their attention from the movie since, completely missing out on the rest, while Crowley softly pushed him on his back on the sofa and smothered him with kisses. 

Celine Dion just finished her famous ballad when Crowley noticed something different about their intimate session this time. Aziraphale had silently ignored the unspoken rule of no touching below the waist. He had untucked Crowley’s shirt and had let his hands glide underneath, feeling around the demon’s bare torso. 

“Wow, hey, aren’t we touchy tonight?” Crowley remarked in between kisses. 

“Do.. do you mind?” Aziraphale suddenly became unsure.

“No, no it’s fine. More than fine.” Crowley assured him, caressing a finger across his lips. “Feels great.”

“Oh good.” Aziraphale smiled relieved. “I’d hate to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Don’t be afraid of that, sweet angel.” They kissed again. “Whatever you feel like. There’s no need to hold back.”

“Yeah… about that…” Aziraphale said a bit breathlessly. 

“What?” Crowley leaned back a little, a small flicker of fear sparked in his chest. Did he do something wrong?  
“I was contemplating it for a while already.” Aziraphale began, nervously diverting his eyes from the insecure demon. “But only if you’re up for it. And truth to be told, I’m quite nervous about it. I don’t even know what I’m getting myself into. But I somehow feel I need to know. I want to know.” 

“Know what?” 

“What it feels like.” Aziraphale paused for a bit. “Sex, I mean.” 

Crowley felt like he just got a punch to the gut. But with flowers. His insides suddenly buzzed like a hundred bees. If it was fear, love or excitement he couldn’t tell, but it was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. 

“I’ve…. never really… done it before either. Properly I mean.” He confessed. “Fiddling around I can do. But….”

“Then let’s find out together.” Aziraphale said. “I want to. With you.” 

“You’re sure?” Crowley said sternly. “You’re absolutely sure? I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Aziraphale muted him by pressing their lips together. “Stop being silly.” He said as they released. “I trust you.”

He gently pushed Crowley of off him and got up. “Come on then.” He led the way towards the stairs.  
Crowley couldn’t believe this was actually happening… He sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, and then followed Aziraphale upstairs, his feet barely touching the steps on his way up.


	8. Celestial Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's your smut ya filthy animals!

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by his tie the moment he set foot in the bedroom and pulled him on top of him, resuming the hungry kissing that they started on the sofa. 

“Don’t be too eager.” Crowley warned. “I might not be able to control myself.”

“Oh but I trust you darling.” Aziraphale nudged his nose against Crowley’s. “Just let it happen as we go.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Crowley noticed he was trembling. 

This was actually happening…  
Fuck it, he thought, and proceeded to grab Aziraphale’s shirt and lift it over his head. Then he removed his own. 

Damn, you’re beautiful, Crowley thought as he let his gaze wander over the angel’s soft body. His own scrawny posture seemed so insignificant, a poor excuse of a corporation compared to the full, luscious curves of the angel underneath him. The angel who traced his fingers along the demon’s bare chest, following the line of hair down to his navel. 

“Gorgeous.” Aziraphale breathed. “Absolutely stunning.”  
“Speak for yourself, you beautiful bastard.” Eager tongues twisted over and under each other. Hands traveled over their backs, touching and feeling every inch. Aziraphale let his hands wander ever lower, down to Crowley’s tight jeans. Now even tighter. 

By use of miracle, Crowley let his jeans slide down, revealing the tent underneath. He felt vulnerable and exposed, but somehow it didn’t inconvenience him as much as he expected. It was a liberating, warm feeling. 

They broke their kiss for a moment and looked each other in the eye. Their gaze spoke of trust and love. The air around them was heavy with anticipation. 

Crowley wanted to ask his angel if he was sure of this for the umpteenth time, but he didn’t need to. The look in the blue eyes was enough to reassure him that this was all okay. Still, not breaking eye contact as if he was constantly searching for assurance, he slowly miracled Aziraphale’s trousers down as well. 

Aziraphale, in turn, miracled all their clothes away to the floor by the foot-end of the bed. Crowley noticed, and rather hoped he would at least still have his pants on, but one quick glance down told him that the angel didn’t plan to hold back on anything. 

Aziraphale never lied about his preferred gender that was for sure. Crowley was rather pleased. This was the way they were supposed to be. Unapologetically male, in every way, yet still unapologetically themselves, no matter how they chose to present themselves. In Aziraphale’s case; thick and sturdy. 

“So… you want to go about his… in the male fashion?” Crowley searched for assurance.

“It feels right like this.” Aziraphale said, swallowing heavily. “Doesn’t it for you?”

“Yeah. It does. Totally.” Crowley tried not to show how much he was trembling. Despite his brave words, he could feel how tense Aziraphale was underneath him. He felt it was up to him to take the lead. He wanted his angel to feel safe and comfortable, and he was willing to do whatever it took. 

‘Not too fast.’ He reminded himself, as he slowly reached a hand downward, between them. ‘He said he trusts you. Don’t betray that. Take it slow.’

His hand found the thick, hard flesh and he lovingly embraced it. Aziraphale let out a faint moan.  
Very slowly, he started pumping his effort, stroking the ever increasingly wet tip with his thumb. The angel was shivering with pleasure, fumbling between their bodies to find Crowley’s own, hard length. Once in place, he stroked one finger up and down the shaft, and then slowly added more fingers until Crowley was immersed in an embrace of soft fingers around his cock. Aziraphale leaned forward, making them sit more upright. 

This was amazing. Even if they didn’t dare to go further than this, Crowley was perfectly content with it.  
They haven’t even ventured into unknown territory yet. Crowley had done the act before, although he couldn’t even begin to recall how long ago. Flashes of brothels and unnamed mortals went through his mind. He had let people touch him before, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him if he ever felt anything that was this good. 

It was because now, he did it with the one he loved. He never loved anyone of those nameless faces that he allowed to touch him before. They were no one. Just a tool he once used to quench his thirst for lust, or a pawn in a job of greater temptation that had to be done. He let the vague memory of their faces leave his mind as their strokes became faster and wilder by the minute, filling the air around them with the smell of pheromones and the sound of their labored breaths. 

“Stop. I can’t. I almost…” Crowley moaned, and let go of Aziraphale’s effort. 

He felt the old familiar spark of nearing climax accumulate near the base of his spine. He didn’t want to come. Not yet. Not by a long shot. 

“Did I do something wrong, my love?” Aziraphale quickly stopped what he was doing. His motions were frozen in the air, looking at the demon in shock.

“No, you are brilliant. A little too much, even.” Crowley gave his love a comforting kiss. “You almost made me come, that’s all.”

“Isn’t that… what we’re aiming for?” Aziraphale said insecurely. 

“Eventually.” Crowley tried to control his breath, guiding it back to normal levels. “But not so soon. I’m not nearly done with you. I want to make you feel all the pleasure I can give you.”

Aziraphale couldn’t suppress a shiver. “There’s more? Oh of course there is. But this was already so… so good…”

“Oh, there is so much more.” Crowley teased. “I.. just.. I need to know for sure. I really.. really want to… I just need to be sure you’re in one-hundred percent.”

Aziraphale recalled the vision of months earlier; when he watched the two male actors go about it on TV. He held in account that it would come to this. He had chosen his male gender on purpose. It had intrigued him so much, that he needed to experience it properly. But the thought if it alone made him clench his whole body already. He would lie if he denied being at least a bit scared.

“I want to do it.” He said adamantly. “I really do. I trust you. It’s just… I’m quite nervous.” He trailed off, feeling the effect of his nerves in his whole being.

“I’ll be gentle.” Crowley promised. “It will feel good. I’ll make sure it will.”

“Does it hurt?” Aziraphale blurted out. 

“No.” Crowley assured him. He searched for Aziraphale’s hands and threaded their fingers together. “I’ll never hurt you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Crowley kissed him with all the love he could give. Slowly, he pressed Aziraphale back in the sheets, tilting his hips upward. 

The angel trembled from head to toe, but his pose was open and willing. 

“Just relax.” Crowley said softly as he miracled some lube between his fingers, letting them slide carefully between the angels round butt cheeks. “Just let it happen.” 

He entered a long digit.

Aziraphale whimpered and felt his whole body clench and protest. 

“Sshhh.” Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s face with his unoccupied hand, softly caressing with his thumb. “I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you. Relax, my love.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and released. His body followed his exhale and relaxed into the motion of Crowley’s careful finger. 

“That’s it. Relax. Breathe.” The demon whispered, pressing soft kisses along Aziraphale’s jaw. 

Once he got accustomed to the feeling, Aziraphale noticed how much pleasure it gave him. It was unlike anything he ever imagined. Silly, how a touch around that most private and vulgar part of a body could be so sensational and fantastic. 

He moaned softly, making Crowley regain his confidence.  
Now this was new territory for him as well, but he handled it like a pro. He knew what he was doing, nonetheless. He had studied the theory extensively enough. He carefully added a second finger. It was welcomed by the angel with a loud gasp and his body started waving along. 

Crowley let his kisses trail downwards as he went, passed the angels’ heaving chest, down to his soft belly. He paused there for a second, looking up for reassurance. Aziraphale’s hooded eyes and open mouth, letting out staccato gasps told him it was okay to continue. Not interrupting his handiwork on the angel’s back entrance, he let his mouth wander further down, until his face was a mere inch away from the angelic girth.

He dared to enter a third finger just as his tongue found the leaking tip, leaving Aziraphale to squirm in pleasure. 

The demon worshipped the throbbing effort with his mouth, the best he could. He felt the angel shock and squirm, but was careful that he didn’t go too far. There were still other activities to explore. 

He only stopped when Aziraphale’s moans turned to uncontrollable yelps and he felt the balls tighten. 

All three fingers exited, slick with lube and Crowley slithered back up, meeting Aziraphale’s wet mouth in a hungry kiss. Demonic lust was spreading through him like wildfire. 

“Crowley. Oh.. Crowley….” The angel panted. “Absolutely amazing…” 

“I’m not done yet.” The demon hissed. “We’ve only jussst begun.”

Aziraphale was so overcome with ecstasy, he could cry. “I’m not sure if I can handle it…” he admitted.

“It’sssss alright” Crowley hissed. “I’ll make you ssseee ssstarsss. I’ll make you feel ssssso good” He aligned his throbbing, aching effort with Aziraphale’s now wide open backside. 

Aziraphale yelped and tightened again at the feel of Crowley’s tip against his entrance.  
This was it. He ached to feel him inside of him, but feared it all the same.  
“Crowley!” he exclaimed. “Crowley… I can’t…”

“Ssshhh.” He hissed near his ear. “I’ll be sssooo gentle. You’ll love it. I love you.” 

And with that, he ever so slowly pushed forward, into the warm, tight comfort of his angel. The latter giving a loud, deep ongoing grunt, feeling himself open up, welcoming his love. 

Though Crowley’s whole being screamed with reckless lust, he held back, his movements remained slow and languid. Maybe it was because he was afraid he’d hurt Aziraphale, and maybe it was because the atmosphere didn’t ask for it at all. This was their first time, and it would be beyond the evilest sin to let it be spoiled by the urges of lust alone. Above all, what happened between them now was nothing less than love in its purest form. Lust was a mere byproduct. 

Hot tears were streaming down Aziraphale’s face.  
So this was lovemaking. This was what sex was like. He thought he knew pleasure. He thought nothing could beat the smell of old books, the taste of crêpes on a terrace in Paris, the comforting feel of familiar velvet against his skin. No. This was far better. This went beyond just the movement of phallic forms into yearning entrances. What happened on a physical level didn’t matter. It was merely a conduit for what happened between them. The wave of the purest love and desire, that was everything that mattered. The gasping demon between his legs. That was what mattered.  
The pleasure extended to beyond the realm of reality.  
Was Aziraphale mistaken, or was he floating a few inches above the bed?

A shimmer of white feathers appeared in his periphery. He looked up and saw black wings emerge from Crowley’s back as well, sprouting from between his heaving shoulders.  
Their wings bend forward, touching tips halfway, enveloping them in a feathery black and white cocoon of joy, love and ecstasy. 

“Oh God….. oh god…..” Aziraphale exclaimed in between gasps.

“Sssshe’s not here” Crowley grunted, his wings twitching. “Sssshe can’t hear you. Here, it’s jussst you and me. Jussst ussss.” He hushed his angel with wet, sloppy kisses. “Only usss.”

Their movements were hypnotic. Slow, burning and agonizing, a haze of sweat, feathers, touching fingers and greedy mouths. Words fell short and they were both reduced to whimpering. 

Crowley knew what was coming. It wasn’t like he never had come before. However, the ball of energy he felt in his groin was greater than he ever experienced. He felt how it grew in power, ready to unleash. He couldn’t wait for it to happen.

Aziraphale on the other hand, had no idea. The feeling was so overwhelming. Fantastic, yet so alien and terrifying. He knew in theory what it was, of course. But he never ever in his wildest dreams could have imagined how intense it was. 

He felt himself barreling towards a precipice.

“Crowley!!” he cried out, tightening his grasp around him like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. 

“Let it go angel. It’s okay, I’ve got you. Come for me.”

A scream filled the air as Aziraphale’s sight went blank and he tumbled over the edge, showering Crowley’s belly with hot spend.  
Not a second later a deep, guttural grunt joined in, and Aziraphale felt a hot, flowing sensation inside him. Wings that were first silently guarding them safe inside suddenly flapped frantically. 

They held each other tight, trembling through the aftershocks and their wings retreated. Crowley’s body went limp and he collapsed on an angelic chest. He had just enough wherewithal to quickly miracle away the sticky mess between them.

It took several minutes, but their breathing slowly returned to normal.  
Aziraphale lay there wide-eyed and stunned. He was convinced he had reached the peak of what a human body could possibly feel. 

“Are… are you alright?” Crowley asked shakily.

“Not quite sure…” Aziraphale replied with the same, shaking voice.

Oh shit I went too fast. Too far, Crowley thought. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you…?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me, don’t worry.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss on the sweated, fiery head of his best friend.  
His lover. His mate. 

“It was just…. So… intense…” 

“Did you… did you like it?” Crowley needed to know.

Aziraphale lifted up Crowley’s head so he could look him in the eye.

“It was amazing. I loved it.” 

Crowley laughed relieved, pressing a kiss to the angel’s soft lips.  
He then rolled away, onto his back. He tucked Aziraphale’s head under his chin, showering the golden head with kisses. 

“I love you.” Aziraphale whispered. 

“I love you too angel.” Crowley felt a lone tear escaping his eye. There was warmth within him, so overwhelming, that went straight against everything that defined him as a demon.  
It was a piece of angelic power. The piece of Aziraphale within him. The piece that enabled him to love. 

“ So much…”


End file.
